


I hope we both die

by Bonfirefly



Series: Random MCYT one-shots [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bad character study though, Barely any dialogue, But idk how sad this actually is, I Tried, I tried to make this sad, Introspection, Kinda based off a song but not the actual lyrics, Mostly just thoughts, TommyInnit-centric, mostly just character study, you know the song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 18:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30042690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfirefly/pseuds/Bonfirefly
Summary: Tommy trapped in prison with his abuser what he gonna do?(Contemplate his death, that's what)(I wrote this after he was revived I just wanted to write this for some reason)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Tommyinnit & Clara
Series: Random MCYT one-shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210061
Kudos: 27





	I hope we both die

**Author's Note:**

> “I hope you die,”
> 
> “I hope we both die.”

Dream was staring.

Tommy knew this because he was staring at something else, and he knew the feeling of being stared at.

Neither of them had spoken for a while, though Tommy couldn’t tell, seeing as how Dream broke every new clock Sam sent them.

While Dream was staring at Tommy, Tommy was staring at the lava.

It made him think of Clara.

He continued to stare into the lava. He stared without a care in the world, for who cared about him? No one. 

“I hope you die,” Tommy finally spoke, still staring into the lava and ignoring Dream’s curious and questioning gaze.

“I hope we both die.”

Dream still hadn’t spoken, and Tommy didn’t know when he stopped, as he didn’t even realize he spoke at all until he took into account that the voice wasn’t Dreams.

“I hope that when I cut myself to the bone, the blood gets on you,” Tommy didn’t know why he’d started now, at that moment, but he knew where it was all coming from. 

He knew what he was saying was harsh and somewhat cruel, but he knew that Dream was those things himself, so he knew that the mask-clad man wouldn’t care about what he’s saying.

“I hope to stare into your eyes as I take my final breath.”

He’d done reflection while trapped in a small box with his abuser. His tormentor. His murderer.

He didn’t have a reason to live, did he?

His friends have all moved on, carried on with their lives like they had never done wrong, yet Tommy was still suffering. He had no family; he just claimed Wilbur as his older brother one day, when really he was simply abandoned. Everyone always left him in the end.

Dream was still there, though.

But Dream was never actually there, was he?

Dream didn’t care about him. Dream didn’t like him. Dream hurt him. Dream was wrong. Dream tried to get rid of him. Of who he was. He almost did, in the end.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he succeeded in his plans, as Tommy wasn’t any happier when the man was in prison than when he was free.

So maybe Dream did win in the end.

“I hope I leave the earth with the knowledge that you’ll still be here suffering.”

He was never honestly looked at properly while here.

Everyone just saw him as the titles he accumulated.

He was just Wilbur’s annoying younger brother, Tubbo’s irritating best friend, Dream’s obnoxious teenage enemy.

He thinks that everyone forgot he was 16.

Or maybe they did remember and just pushed that little fact away, so they didn’t have to feel the guilt.

He hoped they felt guilt when they thought of him.

He hoped they weren’t like Dream, in that sense.

He knew Dream didn’t feel guilt when he looked at him, nor when he looked at the actions against him.

He probably felt accomplished, amused probably, the prick.

“I hope we both suffer for eternity.”

He wanted to throw himself into Clara’s arms.

Her fiery red hair, her tan, almost orange skin, her flowy yellow sundress.

She was so warm when everything around him was cold.

He was always cold, and he always will be unless he’s in her arms.

He wants her to heal the straight cuts on his wrists and forearms, the bruises on his torso and back, and everywhere else on him.

The damage in his mind that he can’t seem to fix.

He missed looking up into the night sky while listening to chirp and imagining them slow dancing to the song.

He wants to dance among the stars with her.

“I hope when you think of me, it’s the me that I used to be.”

He wasn’t who he used to be anymore.

Tommy wished he could be who he was, but he knows that’s just a fantasy.

He missed when he thought of himself; he could see bright blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes instead of his almost brown hair caked in mud and cyan eyes drowning in sorrow.

He wishes to drown in the ocean. He hopes to soak in the lava.

He wishes to drown in the comfort of who he once was.

He just wishes to drown nowadays.

It had only been a couple of minutes since he’d first spoken, yet it felt like days.

Dream still hadn’t spoken yet, and he wishes he knew what he felt about it.

He didn’t want to hear the voice of the bastard that ruined his life, but he knew that that voice would be his own or at least a whisper of it.

But he’s also slightly afraid of what the man could do.

He’s not afraid of death, not anymore, but he wishes to go out on his own terms and not by the man who took the rest of his lives.

He wishes to do something for himself for a change.

“I hope when you die, I’ll be the last thing on your mind,” Dream whispered, voice muted yet still holding the tone of knowing something he didn’t.

“I hope it isn’t.”

_ It probably will be. _

**Author's Note:**

> Song: "No Children" by The Mountain Goats
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QS27S3mspjU


End file.
